Poetry is the arithmetic of the easiest way and the primrose path, matched up with foam-flanked horses, bloody knuckles, and bones, on the hard ways to the stars.
Poetry is a type-font design for an alphabet of fun, hate, love, death.
I cried over beautiful things, knowing no beautiful thing lasts.
What else have I done nearly all my life than go hungry and go on singing?
After the sunset on the prairie, there are only the stars
And even now she beats her head against the bars in the same old way and wonders if there is a bigger place the railroads run to from Chicago where maybe there is romance and big things and real dreams that never go smash.